The Jamjar

Magpie

Urban Rooster

Too hot to woo

I'm nothing if not responsible. Responsible and desperate. Desperate enough to badger and guilt James into dragging himself and his lovely wife Lesa to the new Cock'n'Bull in Newmarket for a drink on Friday night. I'm not proud, I promised him all I needed to to get him there. His demands included comfy chairs, and a table by the window. It was a tough deal but I was prepared to make it.

With the prospect of drinking in Newmarket after work, came the need to formulate a plan to get there and back home again safely. That meant no driving. That, in turn, meant taking a combination of public transports to get me where I needed to go. I managed the first leg by catching the ferry in the morning. If you've been playing along at home you'll know, the thing about catching the ferry is that it's cold work. As beautiful day as it was on Friday, the air was chilly and it was cold out there on the water. I, who may be both responsible and desperate, was not sensible enough to wear enough clothes. Oh, how very dumb-twentysomething-female of me.

I'm coatless at the moment. My coat seems to have outgrown me and has been left at The Mission for those who need it and fit it better. I've been meaning to purchase a new coat and now is the time of year for paying less than you normally would for a coat as Spring is just around the corner.

Rather chilled by the time we disembarked at the Ferry Building, I decided to see if the sturdy Rendells store in Downtown had any coats. They did, but unfortunately, only camel coloured - which, while a lovely, classic coat colour - happens to be the exact same colour as me. I spent some moments talking to myself, telling myself the coat was a good price and a smart fit, but when it comes right down to it, I was one camel colour from head to knee and therefore: invisible to humans / attractive to camels. I consulted my purchasing directive "Only buy what you love", and even though the coat was a practical buy, and given we've already established I am not sensible, I left the coat with the shop assistant and paid the same amount of money on a ticket to Manhatten Transfer's only Auckland concert at the Ticketek counter outside Rendalls.

I grabbed a taxi to work on a day themed in public transport, and arrived in time to start my day in the fashion of the whole week: a bit too late for comfort. The day progressed and I did some work, and organised some things, and wrote an important email, and laughed with the reps as everyone seemed in a relaxed and overly noisey mood. Lunchtime came and I decided to go shopping again. Tired of the chipped cups on offer on level 7, I decided to buy my own. The most impractical place to purchase an office-coffee-cup is Smith and Caugheys in Queen Street. So, that's where I went.

Their top floor is China Heaven. They stock *all* the brands of fine and bone china. I don't think I really thought I could find a $9.99 cup, and sure enough after paying $35 for one I chuckled at my spendthriftness and how the hell I was going to cope with having such an expensive mug in a hotdesk/sharing environment. I'd have to keep it under lock-and-key so it wouldn't go walkies and/or get chipped etc.

I really am so frickin' impractical sometimes. But the mug fell smack dab into the middle of my shopping directive so that's okay for now. If I'd just held on for five minutes I could've brought my lovely big elephant cup to the Help Desk but Patience is a virtue I often don't have.

The afternoon carried on. I drank coffee from my new cup, and Oreos from Michael who seems to love feeding me with sweets and tastey treats. I ordered my taxi to pick me up outside work at 4:45pm which was a bit on-the-nose considering when I wafted in, but my drinks with James and Lesa were important, and now they were sandwiched in between work and the Manhatten Transfer, I really needed to keep to my schedule.

The time came to pack up and shut down, and wish people a good weekend and I left to catch my taxi. I got downstairs and an Alert Taxi was sitting there. I asked "taxi for michelle?" and he said he was picking up four gentlemen so I made myself comfortable waiting for my Cab.

And I waited, and.. I waited. 4:45pm I had told them. It must be that by now.

I looked at my watch. I blinked as I realised it said 3:30pm. I'd managed to leave work an hour earlier than intended. I just *couldn't* go back upstairs after saying goodbye to everyone, so I did what any redblooded Kiwi'd do in my place, I walked down to hide in Borders bookstore. I phoned Alert from there and changed my venue pickup - they laughed at me "Decided to go shopping eh?" yes, okay, yup that's what I decided to do.

So after paying $20 on a taxi to Newmarket after an accidental end to work on Friday, and after drinking with james and Lesa, and after coming back into town to see the Manhatten Transfer play for a very short, very expensive, very good 2 hours. Of course, the loudest most avid Manhatten Transfer fan sat next to me. He was so loud, the Manhatten Transfer told him to settle down. But he was having a good time. He even knew some of the words to some of the songs and happily sung along. Only trouble is, jazz is never the same twice so you can get out-of-synch quite easily but hell, he was fun and it was nice to have someone to agree with.

I ended up sitting in a very drafty ferry building finding very little warmth from my concert ticket stub. There is a young man sharing one of the few wooden benches with me in the terminal (the rest are metal and very cold upon one's sitting apperatus). He had the hiccups. He was trying to fight them but from the vibrations rattling down the seat, he'd decided to just "go with it". He passes the time between hiccups watching an overloud news broadcast on his mobile phone. I'm spent mine blogging old school: pen, paper and a can of Coke.

Karate Kids

Congratulations to all at the Ashihara club's grading day on Saturday. Especially to Simon on gaining his Red Belt, and to David for skipping Red and getting a Red Belt Blue Stripe.

MY top 10 albums

Achtung Baby – U2
Slippery When Wet – Bon Jovi
Stop Making Sense - Talking Heads
Beatles for Sale – The Beatles
Excitable Boy – Warren Zevon
The Bends - Radiohead
Performance and Cocktails - Stereophonics
Nirvana Unplugged - Nirvana
Kerosene Hat - Cracker
Making Movies - Dire Straits
Sunshine on Leith - The Proclaimers
How Dare You - 10CC

(just missed out)
Lemon - Tonic
Itch EP - Radiohead
Amnesiac - Radiohead

Nested Public Transport

Fursday & Sin City

Today was a good day. In a week with too few "good days", Thursday's little surprises made me realise it's been a while since I've been happy.

No, laughing doesn't always equal happy.

Today started as every one of the dumb days this week has started - with me being very late for work. Not that I have to clock-in, but I imagine before 9am to be *ontime* and after 9am to be late-for-work. It doesn't bother me that my start time impacts my going-home time; what does bother me is I lose my desk to a Call Centre Rep if I don't claim it in a goodly timeframe i.e: before 9am.

I like Hot Desking in theory - but it should never apply to me. Just like meetings don't always apply to me, and when everyone decides to leave a party, that doesn't apply to me either. And to be honest, I'm not the only one - well okay, at the party i'm the only one left, but at work, the same people sit at the same desks most days so I guess they don't consider Hot Desking applies to them, either. Except that one guy who, yesterday, snaffled my desk.

So, getting in late. Walking the two blocks from the car park, late already, and drawn to the C-Pod Coffee Cart'n'eatery (if you don't mind your eatery in the bikery) by the waft of coffee aroma. I decided to buy my lunch and breakfast muffin. I don't normally have a muffin for breakfast, but as I'd not eaten breakfast and I was purchasing a muffin, by default it became my breakfast, therefore, my breakfast muffin. And of course, I ordered my coffee - large flat white, two sugars. Waiting while the CPod guy espressed my coffee, delicately flavouring it with the exact number of sugar cystals and pouring beautiful velvety steamed milk into the takeout cup, I stood quietly in the bikery of the office building, happy that I'd remembered my swipe card today and even though i was late, I wouldn't have to sneak into the building on the shirt-tails of a Field Force worker this morning. Naturally, my mood changed dramatically, although I was not particularly surprised given how my week was going (remember the forgotten swipe card the day before? dangerously and not previously mentioned low fuel tank on the way to work? aforementioned lateness?) to discover my EFTPos/Cashflow card wasn't where I expected it to be.

My coin collection only stretched to the coffee, which Mr CPod guy was deftly capping with a takeaway/sipable lid when I realised I could no longer afford to buy my lunch. The lovely CPod man said I could pay him tomorrow, but my automatic "no, thank you" cut my nose off to spite my face - something my grumbing tummy complained about with increasing insistance as lunch loomed closer back in the office at my hot desk.

I guess my body switched to "survival mode" because I started running through my options to keep from starving to death on the 7th floor of a secure building in downtown Auckland. I am pretty sure no one notices if I'm there or not, so would they notice if I starved to death at my desk? It was a risk I wasn't prepared to take.

I decided to call Greg. Now, i know he's my ex-husband, but I do tend to call him in such situations (when my car breaks down I call Garry Kennedy but that's another story). Greg's work often takes him all over town, and I thought I was due some good luck and he might be working in town, or even on the Shore, therefore the possibility of him driving *past* town would be helpful too.

me: Hi, it's me, where are you?
greg: I'm on the motorway.
me: oo you're not on the motorway by town are you?
greg: why?
me: cos I left my cashflow card in my coat pocket and so don't have any money in town, which isn't a problem until I want to go home and can't get my car out of the parking garage
greg: your car is locked in the garage?
me: no.. it's in the parking building here in town, but I dont have any money to get it out later today.
greg: so you need money now to get your car out of the garage?
me: I need money later on in the day to pay the parking to get my car out of the garage
greg: where are you?
me: at work, airedale street.
greg: and your car is in the garage?
me: my car is in the parking building. i drove to work. i parked it in the car park. I don't have any money to get it out at the end of the day. I thought if you were near town, you could swing by and lend me twenty dollors.
greg: you need $20?
me: where are you?
greg: on the motorway
me: *where* on the motorway?
greg: Manukau
me: will you be in town anytime today?
greg: yes, I'll be in town this afternoon.
me: can you come to work and drop some money off to me please?
greg: aren't you at home?
me, through clenched teeth: no i am _not_ at home, I am at _work_ I forgot my _cashflow card_ i have no _money_ and i'm _starving.to.death_ plus my car is in the _parking garage_ and I can't afford to get it _out_ I _need_ you to bring me some MONEY! jesus fucking CHRIST you NEVER LISTEN TO ME!
greg: I can come into town later today, I'll give you a call.

So, he wasn't in town - nor particularly helpful. Credit to him though, if i'd said COME RIGHT NOW I NEED MUFFIN MONEY he would have, but I'm not one to use my powers for evil, nor to waste them on a muffin when taxis are so hard to find in Ponsonby at 4am on a Saturday morning.

So I worked, and put the feeling that i was losing lean muscle mass at an expedential rate to the back of my mind. I did good work too, for the most part. Got to talk to Snug, made my manager laugh a tiny bit, pretty well had a good day and, though i didn't tell anyone, found my EFTPos card in an obscure and rarely used pocket of my bag.

me: hiya, me again.
greg: oh hi.
me: look, lets for get that conversation earlier okay? it never happened.
greg: Oh, you borrowed some money from someone at work?
me: ah, sure. yeh, why not.
greg: heh, I knew you'd cope.

With money card firmly pressed into my pocket, swipe card jammed into the other, and camera slung over my shoulder I decided to go and hunt for sushi or some other native Auckland food. As I walked past the Mission and down into town, I saw loads of people I wanted to photograph but I get so shy about photographing people - it struck me that a photographer might have to be able to run at short notice if they photographed someone who might not want to be photographed, and given my weakened food deprived state and the general look of the public, I decided to leave the camera stuff for today. I walked past many food establishments without stopping but worrying instead at the noise my heels were making on the pavement, and somewhere along the line I started thinking about Rick.

Rick is the eldest son of a very dear friend of mine. I knew he went to school in town and as i was wondering this low and behold, there he was right in front of me. He looked genuinely pleased to see me and we chatted for a while. He asked if I had any time and considering I'd been playing fast and loose with the hours of work today already I told him I had time, so he invited me to come see his school.

Rick goes to the Freelance Art School and is half way through an animation course. And he's bloody good. Good enough for Disney to have flown him out to Sydney for an interview earlier this year. But Rick decided he needed to finish his course because he still has so much to learn. So he toured me around the artwork on the walls, including the some original hand painted cells from the first Animaniacs episodes, which were drawn and inked in New Zealand. He introduced me to his tutor and showcased some of his pencil work. It was *awesome*. I was so envious, both of his youth and of the opportunity he has to learn how to do this kind of thing.

After a while my responsibles kicked in and bid him goodbye, he rubbed my arm affectionately and put me safely into the lift to the ground floor and back up Queen Street, stopping only to buy a prepackaged sandwich on my way back to work. Which was good, for the rest of the day - productive and successful and even involved wearing a stereotypical chinese hat that was plonked on my head while I was on a phonecall. There were nice friendly emails amongst the work and that always makes me happy.

The end of the day arrived about 6:30pm and I toodled over to the car park to retrieve my bird decorated car (another story) and drive on the motorway to do a bit of shopping at Botany before going to Village: Highland Park to see the movie Sin City.

I only have one thing to say about Sin City. It's FABULOUS. Can't fault it: loved it, loved it, loved it. Okay that was more than one thing. But it's a definate go-see/don't-miss. Especially to find out what happened to Rory Gilmore after she dropped out of Yale. Stay in School kids!!

Now I'm home, and my disgruntled cat isn't talking to me because she had to wait until 11pm to have her dinner and I just remembered I didn't have any myself, though, i did have a gin and tonic at the movies so that sortof counts. I am in my pyjamas and I'm worrying about how long I've been writing in this small Moveabletype window.

Today is almost over and I'm tired, as i should be after such an eventful, and happy day.

Settling In

NewJames: You all right Michelle?
Me: ah.. yes.. yes I'm good. yes. um.. why?
NewJames: You seem... quiet.
Me: Quiet? Me? I'm always quiet.
NewJames: ah.. no.. no you're not.
Me: oh.

I'm new, I've been *trying* to be quiet, I thought i *was* quiet - for weeks. Bugger.

Yellow Fellow

Tells you the things I didn't tell you before but now do: all in one, long, post - PLUS, if you order in the next five minutes: a couple of other things I didn't mention I didn't tell you. PLUS, if you pay with credit card: some news with links

[tells you the one about the car]
After years of working for companies who made me use my own car for company business, it was so nice to be given a nice, albeit logo-emblazened, Mazda to drive to Hamilton's training session last Friday. It was a nice clean car, with automatic transmission and a CD/radio and four speakers that could drown out my singing all the way to the Flat Lands.

I allowed 2 hours for the 90 minute trip, which was my very first mistake. It took me 40 minutes to just get on the motorway that morning, but I got there eventually and enjoyed Snug-in-training-action and Molly'n'Snug-for-lunch.

My second mistake was forgetting my camera. Of course, whenever I do that I see a dozen photos I'd love to have taken and the drive home was photo-opportunity after photo-opportunity missed and JJ's words of "sleep with your camera" rattling around the back of my brain.

My third and final mistake was stopping at the Supermarket on the way home. I'm pretty sure that's where someone broke the rear window - I figured this after watching far too many episodes of CSI and recognising the tell-tale glass shatter pattern on the back seat. They were either trying to get in or don't like the company I work for very much.

They're never going to trust me with a company car again.. it was so nice while it lasted.

[tells you the one about the oysters]
Meanwhile, back at the Coal Face; I was spending a lot-less-time-than-promised walking Molly around Macromedia Flash. It was one of those days I'd managed to get all the way until 3pm without eating anything, and it was beginning to show. When my manager's manager came to retrieve my manager for a meeting, she expressed her excitement about something-or-other and suggested the "world would be our oyster".

I'm not sure if anyone else actually *heard* her say that or not, with hindsight it may have seemed a random comment but at the time my "mmm I love Oysters" seemed to stop everyone in their tracks for a very obvious silence and caused my Manager to be momentarily and uncharacteristically lost for words.

[doesn't tell you the one about being generous]
[I decided to cut my losses and go to a meeting I had offsite after that, and it has to do with the question, is giving still generous if you recount every penny in detail everytime? but, I'm not going to carry that thought any further here.]

[tells you the one about the Internet Stranger *insert Jaws music here*]
That leads me nicely into Things I Do When I'm Not at Work and that's mostly Meeting and Sharing Delicious Food with Internet Strangers - and surviving to tell the tale - which seems to have been the case in this instance.

I've met a lot of wonderful people offline after getting to know them online. A few have remained part of my life for years even after they meet me. Like JJ, for instance, I've known him online for years and years and I met him when I was in the UK. And truck, I've known her since she was a whippersnapper (she met me even though it was suggested I was a rampant lesbian after perverted offline sex with young, attractive girls and stuff) and met her in Melbourne and she came here for a visit too. Some I know online for years and years and haven't met: Phet - for example. I've known him for years and years and years and years. And years. Actually, he's the longest I've ever known anyone and not met them. What a distinguished little group on your own there, Phet *makes you a badge*

I do have a little bit of trouble deciding to meet friends I've known and grown close to online. I've come to believe in some cases, meeting someone offline after knowing them a online is the last thing I ever get to do with them.

On the other hand, I have no trouble whatsoever meeting almost complete online strangers because, and I'll be perfectly blunt, I have no emotional attachment. So last weekend, I doned my axe-proof-vest (just in case) and took my emotional deattachment to the Atomic Cafe to meet Ms Sarspirilla for coffee and cake.

She was exactly where she said she'd be, and I found her effortlessly, albeit: late (me, not her) But all was good because she's completely delightful, easy company - funny and articulate with the most beautiful, expressive face. We had coffee and cake and talked about places to go and things to see in New Zealand until the Cafe closed. I took her home to her hostel which, it turns out, was right behind where I work in town - how convienient! So, Monday we met up again for some more food (she might tell you that she's on a World Trip of Discovery, but she's actually just chasing meals around the planet) at a local Korean restaurant. I was having a dumb day on Monday but the afternoon was so much better for having spent lunchtime with Ms S.

She flew down to Christchurch to jump out of a plane and sip feijoa wine with Eroica, before coming to stay her last night in New Zealand at my house (bringing the gift of Feijoa wine from the generous and lovely Eroica). I poured it and chardonnay (CARDennay mum, the aytch is SILENT!) down her throat until she begged for bed. On Sunday she left, continuing her trek eating her way to enlightenment!

Thanks Ms Sarpirilla. I had a wonderful time. I am now officially emotionally attached enough to hope to see you again one day.

[Tells you something you didn't know you were going to know]
Last night I went to see New Zealand Ballet's Dracula at the Civic here in Auckland. It was fabulous. The lighting and sets.. the sets, btw are always really efficient - minimal and detailed, relative and versitile - even if you think you don't like Ballet you should go just for the sets. And the lighting. And the costumes. And the dance hell go for the dance it's wonderful. Though I did get the giggles doing The Count impressions* during intermission and at one stage expected Michael Jackson's Thriller to start when the dead crawled from their cript crypt.

[NEWS]
On my way to the Ballet I noticed a bit of a hallabaloo up Mt Wellington. Fire appliances and a goodly number of police vehicles - turned out a car had been driven off the mountain and a child had been killed. It's been a bad weekend for odd stuff like that - those "young people" who threw the concrete block off the overbridge, killing a young man and injuring the passengers traveling with him in his car had better be crapping themselves because there will be NO mercy when they're caught. I doubt I was the only motorist on the motorway this evening paying particular attention to overbridges and pedestrians upon them.

[UPDATES: Arrest and charges pending.]

But wait.. there's MORE:

TWO UNEXPECTED SHOUT OUTS

HAPPY BIRTHDAY Uncle Chris who-never-visits-here!
and HAPPY SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE MONDAY DaveC - thanks for being patient with me, even though you're not really.

QUOTE OF THE NIGHT "That ballet could've been half as short if it didn't have all that DANCING!" David, teenage ballet-goer.

* One Victorian Virgin, ah ah ah... TWO Victorian Virgins.. ah ah ahhh..I am the Count and I love to COUNT!

Aotea Square, Auckland

We come in Peace

Chopped Liver

hi
hiya, what can I do for you today?
I was going to invite you out for dinner tonight.
Oh, nice.. that sounds nice.
I'm going to Mum's for dinner.
You're inviting me to dinner with your mother?
Well, *laughs* no.
So, you're calling me to tell me you were going to invite me out to dinner but now you're not?
Ah, yeh.
Right.
She has lambchops!

Things I could tell you about:

• having a work car for the weekend and returning it with a smashed-in window
• saying "I love oysters" in front of manager, manager's manager and two other colleagues and stunning them all for several seconds
• meeting and sharing delicious food with an internet stranger - and surviving to tell the tale - or not, as the case may be
• is giving still generous if you recount every penny in detail everytime?

they sound like School Certificate English story-writing options. See how you go.. they're worth 25% each.

If you only read one blog this year..

Read this one. My Hero.

Auckland Town Hall

Fast and Dirty: Montage

Although I'm pretty sure Deanna (comments: Photoshop question) has figured this out, I thought I'd hog your bandwidth and put up a Fast and Dirty lesson in montaging images in Photoshop. Or, as we call it in the Old Country: How to Put Random Shit Together and Still Make it Look Good for Titles and Banners.

A montage is a group of images and effects used to produce a new image. You most often see montages as banners on webpages, like this:

It's best to work on an 800x600 canvas in Photoshop (or any other image-manipulation program that utilises the <voice of God>Power of Layers</God> such as Adobe Photoshop Elements, Macromedia Fireworks, Paint Shop Pro etc) This is the standard idea of the lowest resolution users might have on their monitors. Sorry 640x480 users, you are cursed to a horizontal scrolling life.

File>Open the images you have gathered in Photoshop. Either drag (using the Move tool) or copy/paste your images into your 800x600 canvas. (Select All>ctrl+C>ctrl+V)

The scan lines layer was made by rotating lines created from this tutorial from Phong.com.

Each image needs it's own layer, and each layer needs to be named so you know what you're looking at in the Layers palette.

Now you can highlight each Layer and work on that image. I have decided to work on the figure layer first. Using the Magic Wand tool, select the white background and delete it. This tool works well with this image because of the high contrast between the background and the figure. I then applied an Outer Glow (Layer>Layer Style>Outer Glow). Click OK to set the effect.

Next I highlighted the clouds layer in the Layers palette. Using the Marque tool, I dragged a rectangular selection where I wanted to lighten the image.

Using the Levels palette (Image>Adjustments>Levels) move the righthand light triangle towards the right to lighten your selection. Click OK to set the effect.

[NOTE: the levels on the clouds layer is a "distructive" effect in that it alters the cloud image and so you're limited if you want to change this. A good alternative would be to, once you have selected the area of the cloud layer you wish to affect with the Marque tool, click the Adjustment Layer icon at the bottom of the Layers palette and select Levels from there. This produces a Layer over your clouds image which, while giving you the same effect, will not be destructive to your cloud layer image.]

I went back to my figure layer, and using the Marque tool, trimmed the bottom of the terracotta bust to line up with my newly lightened horizontal.

To apply the Drop Shadow, I had to make some room. Using the Marque tool again, I dragged a selection around the image about 5 pixels in from each edge. I then inversed the selection (Select>Inverse) Highlighting each layer in the Layers Palette in turn, while the selection was still active, I pressed the Delete key to remove the excess art of each layer. I also added a new white backBackground layer (New Layer/Fill with White) so I could see the drop shadow when I created it.

Highlighting the original white background layer, I apply the Drop Shadow (Layer>Layer Style>Drop Shadow). Click OK to set effect.

To create the coloured boxes similar to the ones in the original banner, create a new layer (click New Layer icon at the base of the Layers Palette), name it boxes and move to the top of the Layers palette.

Using the Marque tool once again, and holding the Shift key to constrain proportions to a square, drag to the size you want. (hold down the Space Bar to move your selection into place as you drag it) Select a colour in the Foreground colour chip at the bottom of your Tools palette, and using the Fill Bucket, click inside the selection to colour your square.

To create another square, while your original square is still selected, using the Move tool with the alt key (Move+alt) drag your second square into place and apply colour by clicking inside the selecition (while the "ants" are still "marching") with the Paint Bucket tool. Repeat again for the third square.

Applying Text in Photoshop automatically creates a new layer.

Select the Type tool from the Tool palette and click on your canvas. The new text layer will automatically be created and titled with whatever you type on your canvas. You may have to drag this layer to the top of your Layer palette stack to see it. Use the font/size dropdown menus in the Option menu to create the type of text that suits the image.

When you're all done, save your montage (File>Save for web).

You now have a one layered image you can use as you normally would on a website and/or title page.

RIP David Lange

Thank you to John Campbell for airing the one-on-one interview earlier this week. Rest in Peace, David Lange.

I need a keeper - or at the very least, a decent key ring

I lost the keys to my Post Office Box. They were replacement for my old set when they upgraded the Branch, and I'd actually never used them to access my newly refurbished PO Box. I discovered the keys were no longer on my key chain when I finally decided I'd better clear the box. I blame the cheapo keyring they supplied but considering I thought "that's a cheapo keyring, I shouldn't just hook that on my keychain or i'm just gonna lose these keys" and did it anyway, I will take some blame - 15% maybe.

In my hectic schedule of getting to work and then getting home again, I don't have a lot of time to find an open post office, let alone get to the Pakuranga branch to admit to them I have lost my/their keys. But I was up early retrieving my dead car (another story) from the Pakuranga Plaza (shows how long I've lived there it hasn't been called that in 10 years) Carpark on Saturday morning, and saw the Post Office was open and made a beeline to start the process of getting new keys.

I had some stuff to post too so got that out of the way first then admitted to the young girl behind the counter that I had lost my brand-new POBox keys before I'd even used them. She smiled and asked me what my POBox number was. I said I didn't know. And I don't. Numbers are a comPLETE mystery to my brain. Like that time I had to phone Telecom to find out my phone number even though I'd had it for 2 years but that's yet another story.

So she kind of laughed at me not knowing my own POBox number and about the Telecom story which just came spilling out as stuff often does. So I gave her my name, and my company name so she could look it up that way. Which she did. Of course, being the Post Office it wasn't online or anything.. she had to dig out a book and look it up manually but that's okay.. I'm all in favour of "writing stuff down".

So she found me, and my box number. And decided the best and cheapest option was to replace the lock and issue me with a new set of keys. So, she met me in the PO Box area, and showed me where my PO Box was - I can only remember where my box was, not it's number. She changed the lock and gave me my mail.

She also gave me the out-of-hours passcodes to get in there for all the times (which feels like *most* of the time) they're not open.

Thank goodness for good service for useless customers.

And thank goodness for good mail! Nothing from the IRD - nothing from anyone who *wanted* anything from me and, best of all, no unsolicited mail.

Watercolour sunset

Not 25 years, surely (yes, 25 years, and stop calling me Shirley)

I spent the weekend (last weekend, this entry has been in draft form for a week) in New Plymouth at my 25 Year (holy CRAP) Class Reunion. I arrived at Sacred Heart Girls' College as a boarder (yes, pillowfights and sharing beds) in the second term of the Fourth Form. I was 14 years old. (not last weekend.. but many moons ago.. when i was at school, dontchaknow)

It was the first time in my life I'd ever had a room of my own. I was replacing another Michelle whose parents had moved away/withdrawn her from the school. (not that Michelles are particularly interchangeable, but in this case, it worked) I boarded for two years, and attended as a day-girl for 2 years. And now, 25 years later, I was about to walk into the Squeeze Bar in New Plymouth, slightly convinced no one would remember me, let alone recognise me.

But they did. And I recognised them... well.. *some* of them. I saw Hoffy making a determined bee-line for me while I was trying to order my first vodka and orange for the evening, realising who she was as I was engulfed in a Great Big Hug ®. After she released me she said "I had said, that fucking Midge had better be here!" and here I was, and here a bunch of us were and it was the beginning of a fabulously fun evening.

It's a strange thing to know a face from years ago. People don't really change - not really. We were all shorter, and thinner, and dorkier 25 years ago but we were all familiar now (some of us still have bad hair). Catching up and finding out who does what, who had kids, who divorced, retelling stories and finding out what *really* happened and who got blamed for others follies. It was wonderful. Just wonderful.

My Friday Night

Hell is a network printer

I hate printers. No, really.. i.hate.printers. As heavenly as computers may be, the Devil is the Lord of Periferals.

Today I needed to print stuff. I'd already added all the printers I'd found on the Network, and knew where two of the three printers are on this floor, so decided to print to the default printer and see where it ended up.

I sent a one page document to the default printer. Then went to see which printer had spat out my page. I checked the printer by the kitchen, and then the printer down the other end of the office, but neither had my document.

Time to ask, because I needed to print stuff today. I asked Snugly [he has a real name too, but not here, not today] to help me print, and so he gave me a quick [and simple, because lets face it folks, it IS simple] Training Session: Printers 101. He showed me how to know which printer I was printing to, and even showed me how to collate, staple and other groovy things with the printer.

Sweet.

Back to my desk, I sent two jobs to the printer. Waited a few minutes, trying not to look too eager, then went to retrieve my documents.

Nothing.

Okay, something. There was evidence of printing there but not mine.
I looked, and opened a few trays and looked again but couldn't see my printing.

Bugger.

Time to ask Snugly again. In-for-a-penny in-for-a-pound, I reckon. It was high time he knew that I had Islands of Stupidity that could be found in the Periferals Section of my Universe.

I met Snugly coming out of his office as I was barrelling in. I said "I'm having Printer problems. If we take the fact that I'm a moron as a given, could you please help me find my printing?" to which he said "Snugly? you call me SNUGLY??"

*sidenote* while I might be braindead in the Periferal Dept, I am rather hyper late in the day when it's a long time since lunchtime and dinner's not too far away. I tend to write um.. excitable emails around the end-of-business and had, in fact, told Snugly I called him Snugly on an email late the day before. *end of sidenote*

So I came clean and admitted I'd given him a nickname - named for a line he used in Induction my first week when he said that the cables needed to "fit snugly" into the back of the modem, to which I thought "lucky Snugly" and promptly got the giggles for about 15 minutes and the name for him stuck in my head.

So, Snugly walked me back to the printer and picked up a stack of paper from the OUT tray of the printer. He was about to help when I realised the stack of paper he was holding was, in fact, my print job. And, now I thought about it, it had been there the entire time.

So he rolled his eyes at me, and left me to it. DJ (another trainer here) who was in the kitchen told me about the different trays, and what spits what to where when he mentioned A3.

A3? it prints A3?? yay.

I just happened to have made a flowchart earlier in the week A3 and was hoping to print it.

Sweet.

I went back to my desk, and opened up my Freehand file with the A3 flowchart, and proceeded to send it to the printer to make 12 copies. Waited a few minutes, trying not to look too eager, then went to retrieve my documents.

The printer was beeping. The screen read "Tray 3 out of paper". Sure enough, Tray 3 was out of paper, and there was no evidence of refill paper in the vacinity. I looked around and, there was Snugly, talking to some CSRs so I bugged him again.

He's a patient man, it seems. He showed me to the storeroom, and I came back to the printer with a stack of A3 paper and fed the machine. It happily started up again printing my work.

I filled other empty'ish trays while I waited because I'm nothing if not helpful.

I checked the machine. I saw the stack. The stack of A3 copies. Now, I don't know much, but I know what more-than-12 looks like.

Keeping my head (i'm nothing if not calm in a crisis) I start pressing STOP STOP STOP button on the touchscreen of the printer. It didn't stop, it didn't even try to stop, it just kept printing. I'm glad I saw Madagascar because I employed the same technique the penguins used to break the code onboard the Tanker but with a tad more urgency, and finally got the machine to stop printing my job.

I don't dare count how many copies I have. I am thinking it was printing 12x12 but I hate to think. I have so.much.paper I don't even know what to do with it - the recycle bin only takes A4.

Such.a.dork.

I worry the entire time about how many copies of my A4 print run it will do but am completely relieved to only have the 12 I ordered.

It's just gone 11am and I have my printing done, plus enough scrap paper to last me the rest of my contract.

West Coast Sunset